Different
by MercyMagnum
Summary: Isabeau always gets her man and has her sights set on the new wrestler. But this one is different. - OC/Mark Calaway


_Some city in America - 1991_

She saw him ease through the bar's door. Just at the time she'd been told.

For such a large man, he moved with considerable grace. It was one of the first things about him that had caught her eye - well, after the sheer size of him.

He spoke quietly to the bartender, leaning against the bar and was handed a green bottle. He slid into an empty booth and snapped the cap off his beer, taking a long drink. He set it back down on the table and leaned back, his big shoulders pressing into the leather of the booth, the bottle dwarfed by his hand as he idly twirled it in circles.

His hair was damp, the dark red waves falling to his shoulders and over his eyes. His hair always seemed to be in his face. She grinned, suddenly picturing her hands in that thick hair as his breath brushed her skin. She bit her lip and stood, smoothing her skirt, hips swaying as she walked toward his booth. Time for action.

She stopped in front of the table, leaning her hip against it.

"Hey."

His head jerked up in surprise, hand stilling on his beer.

"May I sit?"

He was silent, lips parted, just staring at her through his hair. He blinked and then nodded.

"Thank you, Mark."

She slid into the booth across from him, setting her beer on the table. She nodded toward his beer, "Heineken, excellent choice." She said, grinning.

"I'm Isabeau," she held out her hand and he shook it gentle but firm, his huge hand engulfing hers.

"I know," he said, releasing her hand. His voice was low and rasping and she could hear the surprise and question laced in his tone. He just stared at her and she could practically feel the wheels turning in his head. He knew who she was. That was good.

She had picked The Undertaker out as her next conquest several weeks ago.

Isabeau prided herself on being one of the most famous and popular 'friends' of the WWF talent roster. She had class and smarts, and lots of appetite for bedroom activities. She was always approached by the best wrestlers and she made her choice of which to spend some evenings with when the show was in town. She didn't fawn after them like those poor wrestling groupies who stalked the arenas. They came to her.

All but this one.

She'd heard some interesting things about the WWF's newest wrestler, Mark Calaway. For one he was a little, different, apparently. He was quiet, a loner who seemed to spend more time with his motorcycle and some close old friends than at the wild parties with the other wrestlers on the roster. Oh she had seen him at some of the parties. But he was always quick to leave and made himself very unapproachable to any girls, or guys, who were hoping to get lucky.

After some subtle digging and questioning of the other wrestlers, she had found out that this bar was the one Mark went to after a show in her city. She also found out that none of the other wrestlers had ever seen him pick up a 'ring rat', and they figured that the girls were a bit scared of him because of his creepy ring persona. She could tell just by looking at him that there was more to it than that – he was shy and probably not all that experienced. And his size and unpolished masculinity disguised the fact that he was probably quite young.

"How about a game?" She asked, swallowing the last of her beer.

His head tilted slightly and then his eyes followed the motion of her hand, pointing to a small poolroom down the hall from the bathrooms.

After a moment he nodded and they slid out of the booth. Mark followed her down the hallway and into the room, there was only one pool table in the center of the space and several chairs lined against the wall. The lighting was dim, casting large shadows over the faded red carpet.

Mark began to set up the table, and handed Isabeau her cue stick. She took a moment to admire the back view as he picked out a pool cue for himself. The man did not know how to dress to flatter his body, his jeans were far too loose and the black t-shirt with some sort of skull design on it didn't show nearly enough of him, But Isabeau was good at filling in the blanks. She grinned as he lent his large frame over and began the game, the muscles in his triceps tensing as he thrust the stick forward. After he had successfully pocketed three balls, he barely missed the fourth shot, and turned to Isabeau.

Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Isabeau bent over the table, her tongue running lightly over her lips in concentration. Drawing her cue stick back, she promptly drove the tip of it into the table. Laughing, she looked up to see a look of mirth crossing over Mark's face.

"You need some help there?" he asked Isabeau, the shadow of a grin turning his lips.

Returning his grin, Isabeau nodded her head, gesturing to him with her open palm to step forward.

Walking over to stand beside her, Mark picked his cue stick up and bent over, demonstrating to Isabeau how to hold the stick and then slide it forward between her thumb and forefinger. He showed her how to line up each ball in her field of vision, selecting the most accessible target.

Leaning over to attempt another shot, Isabeau jammed her cue stick once more. Chuckling, Mark walked over to stand behind her

Leaning over, he bent forward his chest pressed against the back of her head and his arms surrounding her body. He gently grasped her hands, positioning them to hold the stick properly. Placing his head directly behind hers, she felt the warmth of his breath licking at the top of her ear, and inhaled, he smelled of a light soap and man. Pulling her arm back with his, Mark thrust the cue stick forward, Isabeau shivered slightly, her nipples instinctively hardening in response as his body bumped hers lightly. She knew he wasn't trying to be seductive, he wasn't nearly that experienced, but he was still succeeding.

"Kind of like that." he murmured into her ear.

"That works just fine for me," Isabeau replied in a husky tone.

"You try." He said and she decided that she absolutely loved the soft tinge of Texas in his voice.

"I think I will" she replied, winking at him.

She maneuvered into position, knowing that her ass was arching out a bit more than necessary and took the shot slowly, grinning as the cue hit its mark and the ball sunk satisfactorily into the far pocket.

"How much do you charge for pool lessons?" Isabeau asked, turning around to smile up at him.

"Not much," he drawled with a slight grin, his green eyes looking down at her through heavy lids, then shifting to the floor. He twirled his pool cue in his hand.

"Give me an idea," she murmured, suddenly mesmerized by the sculpted shape of his mouth. It really was superb - slightly wide and slender, but the bottom lip jutted out just perfectly.

"I don't know, ten bucks?" He grinned and shrugged his huge shoulders.

He really is an innocent Isabeau thought in wonderment; most men would have been all over that subtle invitation.

"That's all? Well, that sounds harmless enough," she replied. "C'mere."

He was still for a moment then moved toward her, his brow lowered a bit indicating he wasn't sure what she was up to.

She grinned and licked her lips. "I've got ten dollars in my pocket," she said, motioning towards the pocket on her leather skirt, "Go ahead."

He blinked, fingers curling around the pool cue. "You really want pool lessons?" he asked incredulously.

She threw her head back and laughed. "No you gorgeous brute, I want you." She said, leveling him with her gaze, letting all the lust show in her eyes.

His mouth fell open and she could see the surprise and desire in his face. Isabeau took full advantage of the situation. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his thick neck, pressing the length of her frame against him. He gripped the edge of the pool table with both hands, his body bending over hers as she pulled him toward her. She heard and felt his shocked intake of breath.

So much for her plans of subtle seduction.

_To be continued -_


End file.
